


Sharpening His Smile

by xxdrarryrebellexx



Series: Drarry One-Shots & Ficlets [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (i mean not really elaborated on but...), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Black Hermione Granger, Desi Harry Potter, Dog Traits, Drarry, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, No Dialogue, POC Harry Potter, POC Hermione Granger, sharp teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxdrarryrebellexx/pseuds/xxdrarryrebellexx
Summary: Harry wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed before, but while they were smiling at each other, he realized that Draco Malfoy was going to be there. He would always be there.He would be constant...It took exactly one year for Draco Malfoy to stop being constant.





	Sharpening His Smile

**Author's Note:**

> this was completely self satisfying. there is no real plot. i think sharp canine teeth are attractive and then the process went as follows.
> 
> sharp canines : primal : wolfstar : drarry : angst?¿? : angST : anGST : ANGST
> 
> so...sorry [again]

Harry James Potter of Number 4 Privett Drive knew he was different.

It wasn't only because he had to fight off spiders and cobwebs to fit into his bed [ _read matress_ ] that was shoved haphazardly into his bedroom [ _read cupboard under the stairs_ ], but also because he looked so different too. It was hard to miss how different he looked during breakfast when they all reached for food with pale hands and he had to sit at the table and wait looking down at his stubbornly non-pale ones. His hands weren't even shaped the same. His aunt, Petunia, had hands just as thin as his, sure, but not nearly as dark, nor with fingers as long.

His hair was too messy and just as dark as the rest of him. The Dursleys all had light hair, ranging from a dirty blonde to a light brown, that was quickly turning gray.

Almost as if on cue, as though Harry would forget he wasn't like them, his Uncle Vernon spoke. As always his jab about Harry being a mutt, picked up from his sisters constant talk about dogs the last time she was there, was followed by an unflattering snort that only served to make him look further like a hog in Harry's opinion. It wasn't Harry's fault he was biracial, he hadn't even gotten to chance to know his parents. It was even less his fault that his teeth were so sharp.

He had learned as much in class. Sure strong and healthy teeth were a process and a lot of dental problems were hereditary, but the sharpness of ones teeth is both completely random and dependent on ones dietary habits. He remembered scoffing during class and being locked in his cupboard that night without dinner because his cousin, Dudley, had told on him. It's not his fault they'd always just thrown him scraps.

The Dursleys stood and walked towards the door. It was Sunday and they were going to the cinema. Harry was to sit and stay. Like the good little watch dog they insisted he was.

He doesn't remember the last time he smiled. He guesses it was around the time he stopped laughing too. He used to smile a lot, but the kids were scared of him and the Dursleys were scared of what other people would think so he got a lashing and no dinner and he learned to only smile politely with his mouth closed. Lips pressed together as if even one millimeter of white between them would force all his secrets to spill out.

When Harry Potter turned 9 years old the front door to Number 4 Privett Drive was decimated. On the other side stood a tall ruffled and scarred looking man wearing a large wool jumper and laughing at an edgier man holding out a- stick?- wearing a leather jacket and what looked to be pajamas underneath.

Vernon Dursley hated weirdos. To be quite honest he hated all types that didn't fit in. He didn't understand why they were all out to get him. When Mr. Dursley came down the stairs at 11:32 pm on a Sunday night  after hearing his door get blown in, literally, he decidedly hated Sirius Black. Though, when the same vandal of a man pulled out paperwork to take away the little pest under his stairs, Vernon Dursley thought he may actually like the vagabond after all. If he noticed the two men holding hands as they waited for the boy to pack his things. What was it to him what those freaks did. As long as they were out of his house. They were all going to burn anyway.

Harry James Potter of Number 12 Grimmauld Place has just turned 11 years old and he's heading to Diagon with his fathers, once his Hogwarts letter comes in and it's only then that the irony hits him. When he's surrounded by people and he won't talk or show his scar and he kind of whimpers when someone gets too close, that maybe he is a mutt, but his fathers are both strong dog types and he thinks that maybe it's okay.

He smiles a lot more now. His home and his heart is full of laughter. He doesn't show his teeth on purpose, but Sirius and Remus both teach him how to fend off danger unintentionally while about town one night.

He watches the way their lip curls and the way a growl comes from low in their throats, bubbling to the surface amidst waves of anger that scares the prowler off.

They don't let go of his hand the rest of the way.

He had made friends on the train who didn't balk at him or call him names. It was nothing like before.

He met people who were just as different as he was. Different faces, different accents, different noses, different teeth, different ears, different races. He looked up when a mass or frizzy dark brown curls atop a school uniform started talking. When it pushed it's hair back to be more precisely heard he realized it wasn't an **_it_** at all, but a she.

Her skin was a warm brown and Harry realized he had never had any friends like himself before and although his Pop had told him that his biological father was Desi, he had seen the pictures for himself, the little black girl at the door of the trolley was as similar to his kind of different than he had seen all day. Of course there were those twins, but they kept asking questions about holidays and traditions and things Harry just didn't know. He had found this cubby with Ron who was already tall for his age covered head to toe in freckles that were almost as dark as Harry even if the skin that held them were lighter than a wheat field.

School started with stress and animosity rolling off of the pale blonde boy, Malfoy, he'd heard kids call him. The boy was always there. Pushing and prodding and teasing with his friends goading him on. He'd heard from his father that Potter was living with a couple of stray-gay-mutts and Harry ignored him. When the blonde started calling Hermione those names- those bigoted, racist words- he practically snapped. He hadn't realized he was pinning Draco by his neck and growling until it was too late.

He climbed off of the boy and pushed at the Slytherin's cronies before making an exit with his own friends like a guilty puppy. His dads were not going to like this.

Malfoy had only been teasing, it's what his father did to anyone who opposed him. It was how you stayed on top of the food chain, or so he was told. He didn't know what he was feeling when Potter had started growling at him. Sure he was terrified, but as he stayed rooted to the ground by Potter he noticed just how sharp the boys teeth were.

Maybe he hadn't used the right words, but it was true!

The boy really was being raised by animals, his father had intel that one of his guardians happened to be an unregistered animagus. Draco didn't even know how hard it was to be an animagus, but the way his father had said it with such anger and- jealousy? He had no idea what that would mean. As the darker boy slowly released him he sat up slowly before being pulled up by his dorm mates. How easily could the boy have reach down and torn out his throat if he had wanted?

Draco paled further and brushed off his friends. He had to think. Alone. Think about how that was his first time seeing Potter's teeth. They had argued enough that he felt he should have, but as he ran every situation through his head he noticed how small Potter made himself, how unassuming he made his posture, how minutely he moved his mouth when he spoke...

He shook his head and decided that he wouldn't be like that again. That he wanted to see Potter's teeth again, preferably not bared as if he wanted to tear him to shreds. No. He was going to make a friend. Albeit a friend who was a little different, but a friend all the same.

The next time they meet it's by mistake in the library or on the quidditch pitch, neither of them actually remembers as they both make excuses to leave as quickly as possible when Harry turns with an apology on his lips, but Malfoy makes it there first. They both pause and Draco happens to notice how calm Potter is taking this almost at the same time Harry notices that Malfoy is being pretty docile without his cronies around.

They start meeting frequently in the library in the corner near the restricted section where no one could see them or out on the pitch under the bleachers. Sometimes they talked and other times they studied and sometimes they just sat together and read or wrote or drew something until the other one finished.

Harry James Potter is starting his second year of Hogwarts and he decides to tell his friends about his best friend and how he isn't that bad once you get to know him, he's just quiet and a little annoying sometimes and maybe, he admitted reluctantly, a bit of a prat when he wanted to be.

When people start catching on and Ron and Hermione and Pansy and Blaise insist on studying with them they stop having so much time to themselves. By the beginning of third year they're hanging out alone again, in the astronomy tower. This is where they are the first time Draco surprises a huge laugh from the ravenette. When he looked over with wide eyes Harry looked just as surprised as he felt. He sent the boy an equally as stunning full smile of his own and they sat there like idiots just grinning at each other until the sun started to set and they made their way back to their friends. Harry wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed before, but while they were smiling at each other, he realized that Draco Malfoy was going to be there. He would _always_ be there.

He would be _**constant**_.

He wasn't sure what would happen, but with the blonde looking at him like that and not being scared he was sure of it. Draco Malfoy liked him for who he was. He decided then that at least Draco Malfoy would _always_ be a constant.

It took exactly one year for Draco Malfoy to stop being constant.

The triwizard tournament, Harry noted, had a way of tearing friendships apart more than anything else he had encountered. Ron was mad at him over the eternal glory. Hermione was concerned he was aiming for attention in the wrong places. And Draco thought he was just being an arse, as if he'd wanted to sign his bloody life away!

Ron was the only one who apologized and it had taken him almost dying in the first task. Draco only felt this further pushed his point.

When Cedric dies Harry feels different in a way he hadn't felt in years. He felt like the same lost pup in Number 4 when Dudley would break one of Aunt Petunias nice vases and blame him, as though everything were his fault. After years Harry thought that even if that wasn't, Cedric's death was his fault. When he was met with [ _read captured by_ ] the death eaters he was not as shocked as he should have been to see Lucius Malfoy among their lot. He tried to feel sad at the idea, but all he felt was anger- residual hatred? Was any of it real? Him and Draco choosing to be friends?

Was anything he did even really a choice if he just plays right into everyone else's schemes anyway? When he leaves the graveyard carrying Cedric's body, Draco is there to support them both. He's crying and Harry doesn't know if it's because he was unsure of what had happened, or aware of what his father had planned to do.

Year 5 and Harry has decided to cut Malfoy out of his life. He doesn't respond to the owls he sends over hols or during the summer and when he floos himself over for a visit Harry insists that his father say he's got dragon-pox, because it's the only childhood illness Draco hadn't gotten yet from living in a wizarding home his entire life.

Remus came in the room with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, even though, probably _only_ _because_ he knew Harry was faking it. His fathers knew what happened, but they'd been letting Harry stew. Before leaving the room he reminds Harry that no one grows up to be their parents, try as they might, and it seemed to him like Draco was trying very hard to do the complete opposite anyhow.

Because Harry is stubborn he doesn't talk to Draco at Hogwarts. The year has been shit so far, but he has started a sort of study group with some other students to prepare for the inevitable. Dumbledore's Army was fun, but the war...that was real and it was approaching faster than he thought he could handle.

It is very late at night and he is sitting in the astronomy tower by himself trying to catch a breath and a break when Malfoy comes up and says he loves him even if they're supposed to hate each other and even if Harry doesn't feel that way about him or if he never had. Even though they weren't talking he had wanted Harry to be the first one who knew before the rumor mill got started because he had slept with Blaise and it was terrible, because Blaise was more of selfish lover than he imagined Harry would be and the ravenette didn't say a word, even when the blonde started poking and prodding and goading him into an argument. Three hours later Draco finally left him alone, but he hadn't ever felt so small.

If he had been in love with Draco (and he isn't saying he was!), but if he had been it would explain why he had gotten so mad at him when everyone had seemed to be angry at Harry over the same thing. He supposed it would explain why he felt so empty when he looked at everyone else so happy. The next night he returns to the astronomy tower by himself. He sits on the sill and looks up at the sky. Almost immediately he sees Draco's constellation and remembers the last time he smiled. Without thinking about it he remembers why he was laughing so hard in the first place and grins hugely again. That night when he goes to bed he has a nightmare.

When Harry is rushing everyone through the ministry he doesn't think about what could happen, he's only thinking about what he's here to prevent. When the fight breaks out he knows it's his fault. When his dad comes to save him, he wants to cry, when that same man falls through the veil with a whispered plea of I Love You and a whimper, he wants to cry for a completely different reason.

When they get back to school panting and sweaty and feeling every bit sick to their stomachs, Harry screams before marching into Hogwarts and forcing himself into the Slytherin common room. Malfoy is lying in one of the suède armchairs with his legs thrown over one side and a book in his lap. The green eyed boy doesn't think before punching him squarely in his peacefully napping face.

Malfoy wakes up startled with a bloody nose and another fist coming towards his face. He moved out of the way before losing focus again, because Harry was here, his Harry, but he was mad like Draco hadn't seen him look in years. His face was covered in tear stains and he was causing such a ruckus he was bringing other students from their beds. He forced the Gryffindor back into the corridor where he was immediately shaken off and shoved at.

Harry was yelling at him through more tears, something about him not meaning what he said, about him being a coward and a liar and he had no idea what was going on, but when Harry said he hated him so full of passion, so vehemently, Draco couldn't do anything but believe him. The darker boy bared his teeth forcing the blonde to step back on uneasy footing. He tripped ungracefully until he was just a heap below Harry on the ground. It's not until the next morning that Draco finds out that Sirius Black is dead.

Over the summer Draco starts to properly hate himself. He is forced to somehow keep his family alive, but he can barely keep any steady (healthy) relationships in his life. He's been drinking a lot more dreamless sleep potions. Blaise is over to the manor almost every night. He supposes it's an endless cycle.

It's year 6 and the bathroom is covered in his blood and he's soaking wet and Draco knew he should have backed down because Harry had bared his teeth at him, and it was no excuse, but he hadn't anyway. Then they had been throwing spells and he'd almost- he shivered. And he knows Harry didn't want- _mean to_ kill him. He couldn't say he knew what Harry wanted anymore, or if he had ever known in the first place, but he can't just forgive him because he doesn't have time to forgive him or forget it or even focus on whatever the hell he's supposed to be doing because the only one who's ever looked at him like he mattered was the same boy that tried to rip him to shreds in the bathroom. He sighed into the mirror a few days later as he traced the scars from his temple to the bridge of his nose- from his top lip to his chin- from his hip to the center of his chest- from his shoulders to his ribs- from the center of his torso and blooming out like fireworks-

Pomfrey had said the scars wouldn't heal so now at least he and Harry matched. Scarred and broken and not quite who they used to be. When Potter looked at him now he flinched because he knew it was his fault the blonde was scarred ten ways from Sunday. The slashes were still an itchy, tender, _use-healing-salve-only_ kind of red that was stark on his otherwise alabaster skin.

His anger got him through a few more weeks. It stopped his feelings of _why-cant-it-end-already_ from leaking to the surface too much.

When he took the Dark Lord's mark he didn't realize it would feel like snake venom burning through his veins and he wondered if Harry would be able to aim a sharp enough charm to dig that out of him too.


End file.
